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Coconut-y Pureness

Today, while showering, I followed the directions on my bottle of shampoo, but instead of calling them directions they called it "For a tropical time out". "For a tropical time out: Lather. Inhale a whiff of pure cocout-y paradise. Rinse. Then put your feet up for the first time all day and flip through the travel section of the newspaper."  After reading articles in the travel section, I decided to save my trip to Morroco for another day. I then went to the kitchen, took my cutting knife from my knife collection, and slowly but surely, proceeded to cut the length of my arm. It was then Marfa, my Irish LandLady busted in.

"What chee're doin!" She cried. "Yee're ruin'n the cooch!"

"Yarbly chew nut frogle!" I replied forgetting to think before I speak.

And, like most frumpy ol' Irish woman, attached round her waist was a sheath, and in the sheath: A rolling pin.

"C'mere, ye sack a taters. Ee'll clobba yer!"

The loss of blood delayed my reaction time. All I could do, for what felt like many minutes, was stare, mouth agape. Luckily her girth inhibited her movements, and I escaped a swing o the pin by a hair.

My legs - which had been harnessing secret energy, apparently - became bandy. Bandy legs! I almost ran through the wall. They brought me to another room: The room of miniture toy cars. I was alerted to this fact not only by their glitter, but also by the pain they brought when stepped on. Through the agony, I saw a boy.

"Ye've stepped on me cars!" He cried, and he too carried a sheath, but no rolling pin did he sport, rather, a pocket knife, and he set that to swinging.

"God in Heaven!" I cried, as he came swiping death toward me. The window beakoned, and I busted through, but instead of falling one storey into the bushes below, I instead busted into my neighbours room, who was reading a book on the sofa. She was alarmed at not only having someone fly through her window, but also having that same person spouting gibberish and blood. She threw her book at me, and while I scampered to get to my feet and collect my bearings she proceeded to throw her entire book collection at me, aiming primarily for the junk. While dodging the terrors I managed to get a whiff of my coconut-y hair and it sent me to a better place.

"Hey," I said calmly, "have you ever thought of becoming a duck?"

But there was no one there. I was in alley talking to a brick wall.

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